3. Taken
435 Words
I awoke to hushed whispers and the sound of approaching footsteps. The voices floated around me like ghosts in the darkness.
“She's moving,” one voice whispered, drawing my attention.
The steps grew louder, indicating someone was coming closer. Another voice joined in, speculating about whether I was waking up.
“Do ya’ think she’s waking up?” the second voice chimed in.
“I don’t know, man. She hit that ground pretty hard,” replied the first guy.
I feigned unconsciousness, keeping my eyes closed and body still. The scenario felt surreal, like a scene from a movie. Uncertain of what had happened, my imagination painted a picture of a lifeless version of myself. Yet, deep down, I knew this act wouldn't last long.
As I lay there, my breaths became shorter, almost panting, betraying my nervousness. My heart raced, thumping against my chest as if determined to announce my unease to the world. The heightened sensitivity of my body made every droplet of sweat noticeable—one rolling down my back, another tracing my neck, and yet another meandering between my breasts. Despite the involuntary shiver that coursed through me, I maintained my closed eyes and an emotionless facade.
“Oh no, she's freaking out, man!” the second voice suddenly exclaimed, catching on to my subtle shiver.
“What are you talking about now?” the first guy responded, sounding annoyed.
“She was shaking just now,” the second guy explained.
“I ain’t in the babysitting business,” he retorted.
“Well, we’re just doing what we were paid for,” the first guy remarked.
“Which was? Because I seem to have forgotten,” the second guy sarcastically replied.
“Hold the girl for the next forty-eight hours and then ransom her to the Asians.”
The bizarre conversation continued, and my mind raced to comprehend how I ended up in this perilous situation. The words 'ransom' and 'Asians' echoed, creating a puzzle that refused to fit with my reality.
‘Ransom.’
‘Asians.’
‘G*ng dispute?’
My thoughts spiraled as I grappled with the mystery. It couldn’t be my aunt; she wasn't Asian and had no ties to g*ngs. Questions danced in my mind, and just as confusion threatened to overwhelm me, a revelation struck.
‘Matt.’
‘Asian.’
‘Mute.’
A sudden realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
‘He's in a g*ng?’
Desperation gripped me as I silently prayed for a familiar face
‘Please let him be a Vincenzo or a Big Mouse.’
‘Even a Jerry.’
‘Someone, just save me!’
- Writer
